EMPTY HEARTS, b. blake [O.H]

iv. just survive somehow.

°°°

EMPTY HEARTS.
iv. just survive somehow.

     NUMB LEGS AND burning lungs: despite the two eating away at her, Catherine continued running like her life depended on it—because, well, it did. Monty and Octavia were ahead of her, huffing as they skidded along the bumpy dirt path; Clarke and Finn were trailing behind just the slightest.

Splotches of greens and browns swirled around in their view, as if they were spinning in a whirlpool of a dark-hued forest. They were miles away from the drop-ship, and they were already getting tired out from sprinting.

Catherine had just jumped over a loose branch pointed out in front of her, her mind filled with doubt and despair about just witnessing her friend get speared, when Monty's foot struck the prong of a stump. He let out a gasp in shock, toppling over and landing flat on his stomach. Catherine groaned in exhaustion, both her and Octavia rushing over to help the boy up.

"Come on. We have to go," Octavia said, grabbing his shoulder.

"Monty," Catherine breathed out, wrapping her hands around his shoulder blade to pull him up. She stopped midway, her hazel eyes growing wide as she spotted something sitting in front of them; bones.

By then, both Clarke and Finn had fallen into the same path as them, their eyes watching in horror at the decomposing skeletons scattered around them. Clarke knitted her eyebrows together, bending to grasp a browning skull in her hands, holding it up to show everyone.

"Who are they?" Finn mused, his face scrunched up in disgust.

Clarke shook her head, "What are they?"

Catherine took a step forward, slowly letting her arms fall to her sides as she peered at the head in Clarke's hands. It definitely, by the structure and jagged edges, was not human-like. It looked almost canine, like a disfigured dog's head. The young girl had peeked into her brothers books when he wasn't looking and read small paragraphs about different species and breeds of various animals. She thought they were fascinating then, but now she just felt sick even thinking about them as she stared at the skull.

"We are so screwed," Octavia huffed out in between shaky breaths, just as a distant scream echoed towards them. Catherine's head shot up, her eyes looking in the direction of the cry.

"Jasper?" She asked curiously, her voice crumbling at the ends of her words, lingering her sight upon Clarke. "But I—I thought he was—"